by J. Kenner
He bit back a smile, his mood suddenly lighter. He’d already decided that Lara would have a fine career as an opera singer, because the girl definitely had a solid pair of lungs.
“I think he heard you just fine.” Nikki’s gentle voice was as soothing as a caress, and though he still had a stack of items marked Urgent to review, he pushed away from the desk and hurried to the staircase that led from the mezzanine to the kitchen.
“Dadeeeeee!” Anne’s shrill cry joined the fray. “Beck-fast!”
“Did someone call me?” he asked as he entered the kitchen seconds later.
“Baba!” Lara threw herself into his arms, her use of the Chinese word squeezing his heart. They’d adopted her at twenty months, and though she’d called him both Baba and Daddy for a long time after that, more recently she’d taken to only calling him Daddy. Nostalgia washed over him, and he lifted her into his arms, his eyes on Nikki, who stood in front of the griddle with a spatula in her hand.
“Uh-oh,” he said to Lara. “Mommy’s making breakfast.”
“Just for that, you get cereal, Mister.”
“Phew,” he teased, putting Lara down as Anne squealed, “Pipcakes! Choca pip-cakes!”
“Not today, kiddo,” Nikki said. “Scrambled eggs.”
“Mommy!” Both girls managed the cry in unison.
“Eggs today, pancakes tomorrow,” Damien told them. “Whine today, no pancakes tomorrow. Okay?”
He looked at each girl in turn, and though they pouted, they both nodded. “If only all my problems could be handled with such high-level negotiations,” he said, making Nikki laugh. “And by the way, good morning.”
“Good morning to you, too,” she said as he moved to the table and settled in next to Anne. “But what’s the matter?” she asked.
“Nothing. Just work.”
She tilted her head, her brows raised. “Remember me? I’m the woman who knows you better than anyone.”
“You do,” he agreed, amused.
She poured the bowl of eggs onto the griddle, then pointed the spatula at him. “We said no more secrets, Damien.”
“And I’m not keeping one.” He took Anne’s sippy cup and refilled it with apple juice. “I’ll tell you. I just don’t want to poison the morning.”
For a moment, she said nothing. “Fair enough. But we’re home, and we’re safe, and we can handle anything.”
Slowly, he nodded. And as she turned back to the eggs, he stood up again, then moved behind her, sliding his arms around her waist and pulling her close.
“Careful, Mr. Stark. Wouldn’t want to burn the eggs. Or give the kids a show.”
He laughed, and the feel of it in his chest underscored what he already knew—that she was right. They were together. And they would be fine.
“Breckenridge wants to meet with us. And with Jackson. Says he wants to apologize to you. Then he wants to talk to Jackson and me. He contacted the legal department to request the appointment. I haven’t responded.”
“Oh.” She’d gone stiff in his arms.
“That was pretty much my reaction,” Damien admitted. “What do you want to do?”
She set the spatula down and put her hands on his, making him hold her even tighter. “I’m not interested in seeing or talking to him. If it’s important to him that he apologizes, he can say the words to you. If you meet with him,” she added, looking over her shoulder at him.
“Should I?”
He saw the hint of humor flash in her eyes and was relieved. “Asking my advice about the running of your empire, Mr. Stark?”
“Always.”
“Liar. But it’s a nice thought. Whatever you decide is okay. He was horrible when he called me, but he didn’t say anything that hadn’t been said before. I did take a million dollars in exchange for posing for a nude painting. And you’ve talked openly about the way Richter abused you and what happened with Sofia,” she added, referring to his former asshole of a tennis coach, who was also Sofia’s father. “Hell, you launched a whole charity because of it, and you’ve helped a lot of kids.”
“All true,” he said. “But he doesn’t get to call you out of the blue and use our pasts as a weapon.”
“No,” she agreed. “He doesn’t.”
For a moment they were silent, and he was certain they were both remembering what Breckenridge had said to her that day. She’d told him in detail, and with every foul word, Damien’s blood had boiled.
“The incredible Damien Stark and the coach’s daughter? So what if he told the world? It still reeks. And he thinks he’s better than me? Do you think I don’t know what he paid you to do? That painting. That money? He paid you like a whore, little girl, and then he married you to make you both feel better about it.”
Yeah, those weren’t words you came back from.
He waited until she’d finished the eggs and had served the girls. Then he took her hand, told Lara to keep an eye on her sister, and led Nikki out of the kitchen.
The third floor was built with entertaining in mind. Ironic, since before Nikki entered his life, Damien rarely entertained. And he’d designed this house before he’d had any hope of finally having his pageant beauty in his bed, much less as his wife.
But serendipity worked that way sometimes, and now this floor was the heart of the house. The open area at the top of the stairs served as a combination living and entertaining area. The kitchen—originally intended to be a small work-kitchen for caterers—was their regular dining spot. The master bedroom was on this floor. And although they’d originally intended for the girls to have rooms on the first or second floors, that had changed after too many trips up and down. Now their daughters shared a room behind the master. And the third floor was the most childproofed floor in the history of architecture.
It was, Damien thought, an exquisite area, even better than he’d originally imagined since now it had love and laughter and life to fill it. And a cat, he added, noticing the way Sunshine sprawled in front of the glass doors that led to the balcony overlooking the Pacific.
But none of that was what he’d brought Nikki into the room to show her.
“Here,” he said, standing at the top of the stairs and facing the stone wall and the fireplace. And there, hanging over it, was his favorite piece of art in the world. “It’s a work of beauty,” he said, easing her in front of him and wrapping his arms around her, his chin resting on her head. “Exquisite.”
“Well, Blaine’s a very good artist.”
He chuckled. “He is. And for this piece, he had an exceptional model.”
The painting was a nude, a stunning portrait with erotic overtones. Nikki stood with her face turned away, gossamer drapes caressing her body and her hands bound behind her back with a red sash. Binding her to him, he’d thought, unaware at the time the painting was commissioned just how prescient that image would be.
“He wanted me to be ashamed,” Nikki whispered.
“Did it work?”
She shook her head. “I’m proud of this painting. And I’m proud of the money I earned and how I used it to start my own business. But even if you hadn’t paid me a dime, I wouldn’t have regretted posing.” She turned in his arms. “This painting bound us. As tightly as that red cord.”
He closed his eyes and bent his forehead to hers, knowing that he shouldn’t be amazed that she was voicing his thoughts. “You’re everything to me. You know that, right? You and the girls are my life. My breath.”
“And you’re mine, Mr. Stark. Forever and beyond.”
Chapter Seven
“What’s the verdict?” she asked later as they were sitting by the pool watching the girls play in the shallow end.
“Verdict?”
“About Breckenridge. Are you going to meet with him? I mean, I think he’s swine, but if you think he deserves the chance to apologize, I won’t disagree. It’s not my decision to make.”
“I told Rachel to schedule a meeting tomorrow afternoon. But not because I want to give him the
chance to apologize. I want to look into his eyes and get a read on him, knowing what I know now.”
She cocked her head, studying him. “You think he might be behind the vandalism at my office.”
“I think he’s a vile human, and I wouldn’t put that kind of thing past him.”
She nodded, obviously agreeing.
“Mommy!” Lara’s voice cut through the lingering silence. “Can we go down to the playscape?”
Nikki stood, then reached a hand down for Damien. “Come with us? Or are you going to go in to the office today?”
“Trying to get rid of me?” He’d told her he’d probably go back to work this week, and it was already Thursday.
“Hardly.” She tossed him a smile as she wrapped Anne in a towel and then reached for Lara. “I love being here with you. But I think your empire might need your attention.”
“It has my attention,” he told her. “Why do you think I take such care to hire only the most talented people to run every arm of my Stark International in every corner of this planet? They stand proxy to me every day, baby, and I trust them to do their jobs as much as I trust my ability to hire good people.” He flashed a quick grin. “I think that trust will hold out for one more day.”
“You make a good point, Mr. Stark.”
“And what about your empire?” he teased. “Doesn’t it need your attention?”
“Manifest destiny may not have pushed my company across the globe yet, but what you just said still applies. Abby’s got it under control.”
There was a tease in her voice, but he saw the hint of a frown. “I’m sure she does,” he said gently as he twined his fingers with hers. “And the girls will be fine when you go back to work. But if you want to work from the bungalow again, you know that you can do that…”
For almost two years she’d used the beachfront bungalow that he’d built for her as a temporary office so that she could be closer to the kids. And, in fact, she hadn’t even officially worked from her new office space yet, since the first day of occupancy had fallen in the midst of Anne’s kidnapping. Abby, her partner for going on two years, had handled the move-in and the hiring of some new staff. And if Nikki wanted to continue to work remotely, he wouldn’t begrudge that decision.
“Baby?” he asked when she remained silent.
She sighed, then smiled up at him. “I don’t want that,” she said, and he was surprised by how relieved he was by her words. She was strong. He wanted to see her being strong.
“Before, working in the bungalow was my choice,” she continued. “I wanted that time with the kids after Anne was born. But then it was my choice to rent the new office and to go back to work away from the house.”
Her shoulders rose and fell. “If I go back to the bungalow now, it’s like he won. We got Anne back, but Rory will still have won. Does that make sense?”
He cupped her face. “Perfect sense,” he said, then kissed her, more relieved than he probably should have been to know that Rory hadn’t taken the joy of her work from her as well.
“He changed so many things,” Nikki continued, pressing a hand over her heart. “In here. And in here,” she added, tapping her temple. “I’ll never look at the world the same again. I can’t change that, Damien. But I won’t give him any more power.”
“You’re a remarkable woman.”
Her smile was thin, but her expression was bright. “I’m very glad you think so.”
He laughed, then reached down and scooped up Anne. “I’ll tell you what you told me last night, because you were right. We can’t heal if we don’t move forward.”
Her brows rose. “Is that what I said?”
“Not in those words, but it was what you meant. And you were right.”
She nodded, then met his eyes. “So we’ll both take today, Mr. Stark. Tomorrow we can drive in together.”
“I like that plan. Playscape now?”
“We can see the playscape from Bree’s patio,” she said. “If we’re heading back to work tomorrow, it’s time to see what she’s decided.”
Before the kidnapping, their nanny, Brianna Bernstein, had been debating whether or not to move to New York and attend journalism school. Then all hell had broken loose, her boyfriend, Rory Claymore, was revealed as the kidnapper, and even though she’d been taken along with Anne, Bree had stood out like a giant, neon question mark. Was she an innocent girl, used by an evil boy? Or had she been part of the scheme, her own kidnapping nothing more than staged misdirection?
The fact that she was still living on the property and helping with the girls evidenced the answer well enough, but that didn’t change the fact that for a while things had been tense, to say the least.
Nikki shot Damien a sideways glance as the kids scampered ahead. “Whatever she decides, it’s going to be hard that we didn’t trust her. Even under such crazy circumstances.”
He nodded. “I know.”
In the end, Bree had been instrumental in getting Anne back, but Damien knew that his lack of belief had hurt. And he hated knowing that he’d lacked such faith in someone who loved his children deeply.
He and Nikki had already told her that they would support whatever she decided. She was welcome to stay on as the girls’ nanny. They’d help if she wanted to move to New York. And if she decided to walk away from the Starks entirely…
Well, they would regret it, but they would also understand.
With a sigh, he slipped an arm around Nikki’s waist. “Those were hard days, and we didn’t trust a lot of people we should have. Ollie. Sofia.”
He watched her as he spoke, and he saw the way her face changed at the mention of his childhood friend, Sofia.
“I know she was innocent. And I’m sorry she had a miscarriage. But that doesn’t mean I have to trust her.” She grimaced. “We have a long history, after all.”
He nodded slowly. “You do,” he said as he watched their little girls scamper ahead of them. “But my history with her is longer.”
A lifetime longer, he thought. He and Sofia had saved each other through an abusive childhood where they’d been thrown together in the worst possible way. They’d clung to each other, and he’d drawn strength from the friendship. But Sofia didn’t have his strength. Instead, she got lost in her head. Fixated on Damien. And that fixation had only grown stronger as they’d grown up.
He and Sofia had never had a romantic relationship—not a real one, anyway. But even so, she’d always seen Nikki as a rival. She’d stalked her. Tried to get Nikki to cut. Tried to get her out of Damien’s life, all because she thought that if Nikki were gone, then Damien would want Sofia.
He’d been shocked when he learned the truth. When he’d seen Nikki broken and devastated after Sofia’s torment.
Most of all, he’d been furious with himself. Because how had he not seen how far she’d gone off the rails? But he’d always had a blind side where Sofia was concerned. She’d been his lifeline back when they’d both been fighting to survive with the horror that her father—his coach—had wreaked on them both.
For years, Sofia had been the talisman keeping him sane. How could he believe the worst of her?
When it came down to a question of her or Nikki, though, there was no choice. Still, he couldn’t abandon Sofia entirely. He cut off contact, yes. But he’d financed her treatment. The best mental health and rehabilitation care that money could be. She’d been treated by the most renowned doctors in the world, and she’d been a resident at the best facility he could find. And as the years passed, she’d healed.
She’d emerged with a clean bill of health from her doctors and an ardent desire to make up for the hurt she’d caused people, Nikki included. She’d gone through the twelve steps. She’d made her apologies.
She’d gotten her shit together.
And, yeah, he was proud of her. Despite all the havoc she’d wreaked in his life, how the hell could he not be?
“She’s okay now, Nikki,” he said softly. “And I know she’ll always b
e a little bit broken, but she’s better. She’s healing.”
“I know she is.” Nikki drew a deep breath. “Listen, about that conversation you two had on the beach…”
He tensed. Sofia had always been an albatross in their marriage, and as much as he loved his wife and would always—always—side with her when it came down to it, right now he didn’t want guilt or recrimination or Sofia between them.
She looked sideways at him, as if expecting him to speak. When he didn’t, she shoved her hands into the front pockets of her shorts.
“Nikki?”
“I’m sorry, is all,” she said, her words surprising him. “I got all bent out of shape when I found out you were keeping that conversation a secret. But we don’t share a brain, Damien, and you don’t have to tell me everything. It wasn’t fair of me to get angry, especially after you told me that she’d asked you not to say anything.”
He sighed, the tightness in his chest loosening a bit. “I don’t want there to be secrets between us either, baby. But if someone asks me to keep a confidence, they need to know that they can trust me to do that. Even from you, unless there’s a reason to tell you.”
“I know. That’s what I’m saying.”
He nodded slowly, remembering the way the conversation had gone down. Sofia desperate to talk to him. And him agreeing to meet her surreptitiously on the beach. Sofia had told him about her miscarriage. About feeling lost and alone. And she’d begged him not to say anything to Nikki.
He’d sympathized, and since there was no reason to break her confidence, he’d agreed to stay quiet. But he still shouldn’t have lied to his wife.
“What do you mean?” Nikki asked when he said as much.
“You asked me about it the next morning. You saw me with a woman on the beach, and you asked who it was. I lied.”
“You said it was Jenny.”
“I did. That’s when I should have told you about Sofia. Not what she said—I was right to keep her confidence—but I should have told you it was Sofia, not a neighbor. And I should have specifically told you that she entrusted me with a secret. Which means I broke the marriage rules. And I’m sorry.”
